


samson

by bottleredhead



Series: that time a tumblr user/anon prompted me [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (for Grantaire's beautiful hair), M/M, Piningjolras, blame Bahorel because it was his bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottleredhead/pseuds/bottleredhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompted: Grantaire cuts his hair because he lost a bet with Bahorel (were they drunk? Yes.) and Enjolras reacts strangely to the loss of Grantaire's messy, raven locks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	samson

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little drabble for anon. Title and lyrics are taken from Regina Spektor's Samson.

_  
oh I cut his hair myself one night_

_a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light_

_and he told me that I'd done alright_

Enjolras cannot breathe for a moment – the sight before him is too surreal, too strange for him to comprehend. He blinks once, twice, certain that his eyes are playing tricks on him – because surely this is some sort of hallucination or mild nightmare.

“What is the matter, Enjolras?” calls Grantaire, his voice cocky though his hand runs self-consciously across the top of his head. “Cat got your tongue? Has our fearless leader been made speechless at last?”

The thoughts buzzing in Enjolras’ head make it difficult to form a coherent response. He is aware of Les Amis watching him with varying degrees of curiosity as he stutters, “I – you – “

Grantaire’s eyebrows furrow in concerned amusement. “I must say, I am not used to this version of you. Make some noise, will you? I’m beginning to think that you’re a pod person.”

Enjolras’ jaw snaps shut at that, to the ever-lasting amusement of Courfeyrac who is – _is he filming this?_ “What happened to your hair?” he asks a little desperately, waving his hand in the vague direction of Grantaire’s head. “It’s gone.”

And indeed it is. Where thick, ink-dark curls that were a thing of beauty once rested, there is now a distinct lack of mass. Grantaire’s hair is no longer a halo of black, but is an undercut of hair sheared short enough at the top to be barely wavy, with the sides of Grantaire’s head shaved completely. Enjolras wants to cry.

Grantaire grins at him, seemingly oblivious to the misery swirling inside of Enjolras. “Lost a bet with this fucker,” he jabs his thumb in the direction of Bahorel. “This is just one more entry in the long, ever-growing list of Why I Shouldn’t Make Decisions Shitface Drunk.”

Enjolras says nothing to that, _can_ say nothing to that, because Grantaire’s beautiful locks are gone. Enjolras had fanatasised about running his fingers through those lush curls, had wondered if Grantaire would moan if Enjolras tugged lightly and – wait, what?

Clearing his throat and trying (in vain) to fight the blush rising high on his cheeks, Enjolras shoots Grantaire a withering glare. “That’s a shame,” he says in a cool voice that belies his interior chaos. “I liked your hair. Now, shall we get this meeting in order?”

He ignores the sound of Grantaire choking slightly at his words, pretends not to hear Grantaire threatening Bahorel with bodily harm because “this is your fault, you ass,” choosing instead to begin his speech about the cause-of-the-week even as a part of his mind plots revenge against Bahorel for his terrible, terrible bet consequences.

(He also doesn’t analyse his own visceral reaction to Grantaire’s haircut. That’s a rabbit hole he’s not ready to tumble down.)

_your hair was long when we first met_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are very welcome :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://enjolraspermitsit.tumblr.com)!


End file.
